


From Across the Room

by clique_sinnxr



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 02:11:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clique_sinnxr/pseuds/clique_sinnxr
Summary: How Baz and Simon fall in love with each other from the opposite side of the room.





	1. exam nights

**Baz**

I was sitting on my bed with my legs crossed. I was trying desperately to focus on the book in front of me. The first time I no longer had any schoolwork to do, I was completely unable to pay attention to the words on the page. So I settled for reading the same line over and over, running the page between my fingers, hoping to make some form of progress. Ever so often, I would lift my head up to push my hair out of my face. And be greeted by the sight of my insufferable roommate hunched over a book of his own. His unruly bronze curls were falling over his forehead. He was holding the cap of his pen between his teeth and his face was slightly pink with frustration. A notebook was precariously balanced on his lap with several lines of ink scratched out. Every so often, he would extend one of his legs and kick it violently (perhaps it had fallen asleep). Sometimes he would even stand up and hop a couple of times on either foot. I bit my lip to keep from smiling but continued to watch him through the hair hanging above my eyes. 

A knock sounded on the door. It sounded frantic. I wondered who might be paying a call on either Simon or me at this hour; it was nearly midnight.

“Simon! Open up!” I guess that answered the question. It was Penny, the heavily disruptive best friend of my useless roommate. Simon made a somewhat strangled sound before raising his head up to look at the door. His eyes were open wide, probably to shake himself from the trance-like state cramming for an exam had placed him in. After a few moments, once it was clear Simon was not making any attempt to respond to her wishes, the door cracked open. Then swung loudly on its hinge. A flash of purple rushed into the room. Presumably a new hair color she was trying for this school year. I had been forced to endure nearly all the colors in the rainbow and then some. 

“Simon!” she said again, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Yes, Pen?” he asked tiredly, shaking his head a couple of times to reorient himself.

“What is Miss Possibelf testing us on for tomorrow?” I was glad to not need to know, having finished the class over the summer as I was greatly ahead already.

I snorted into my book. “Well, Bunce, if you don’t know what you’re being tested on for the biggest exam of the term, then you certainly have no hope.” But there was no malice or sharpness behind my words. I looked up with a smile to let her know I was just messing with her. She laughed lightly in response.

“Well, Baz,” she began in an poor approximation of a posh accent, “I happen to not care at all what you think.” And flashed me an innocent grin. Simon mumbled out his response, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. Penny was looking at him with poorly disguised concern, concern that I too shared but was hopefully much better at concealing. Penny made to leave the room, but paused before the door as if she were about to say something. Something in Simon’s utter weariness must have cued her because she reached for the handle and slid out the room. As the door closed, I closed my own book and placed it on the nightstand to my left.

 

**Simon**

As Penny left the room, I felt my head slump down towards my lap. Pen still in my hand, I ran both of my hands through my hair, willing my brain to take in the information I was so uselessly staring at. A soft thump sounded beside me. Baz had closed his book and placed it on our shared nightstand. A shock of disappointment ran through me when I noticed he had brushed his hair out of where it had been draped over his face. Another thump. He had jumped off of his bed and had begun to walk towards me. 

“Snow,” he said quietly. “Do you need any help?” 

I laughed drily in response. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“No, really.” Something else was in his tone. Not as much sarcasm.

“Baz, I’m quite alright.” 

“If you say so.” And he began to walk away. I could feel a frown begin to tug at my face, I longed to beckon him back. But I reached for the textbook that had fallen off my lap and flipped to a fresh page of my notebook. I began to write all of the course material once more, hoping that it had stuck with me this time. After covering the next two pages with what I hoped was neat handwriting, I set my book down and walked to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face and rubbed my temples, hoping to soothe the dull ache that had set in after the third hour of reading the course material. I stared at myself in the mirror, running my fingers through the curls on my head that never seemed to lay flat or point in the same direction. When I finally returned to my bed, I crossed my legs and reached for my notebook once more. And felt a searing pain shoot up my leg. I collapsed back against my pillow and let out a groan which probably sounded like I was facing impending death. Baz, who had tucked himself beneath the covers and was laying with his arm below his head, slowly opened his eyes and turned to me. 

“Foot cramp,” I managed to say flexing my foot, trying to somehow shake out the pain. His eyes closed slowly and a smirk spread across his face as he turned back toward the other wall. His hair was no longer pushed back from his face, rather lying in every direction around his head, some over his eyes, some framing his head like a halo. I had to force myself to wrench my eyes away from his face, which had managed to distract me from the agony I had experienced momentarily before. Sitting back up, I grabbed my notebook and a paper fell out. Definitely not the same kind as the other paper crammed within. It wasn’t as artificially bleached with leaking blue lines as my own paper. It was more cream-colored with dots every few millimeters rather than lines of any sort. Handwriting that was much neater than my own, sloping cursive rather than my own printed lines that crossed over each other. It was the course material, written in a way much different than my own, in a way that was much easier to grasp. It was probably Penny’s. Her handwriting was much better than mine. And she was much better with spells than I was. I sent a quick “thank you” to her in my mind, hoping she would telepathically receive it. After reviewing a few times, I cleared away my things and went to bed.


	2. reversal

**Baz**

A few weeks later, I found myself in the same position that Simon was in previously. Cramming for an exam on Magickal History, rather, unlike the spells exam Simon had taken. Instead of sitting and writing diligently like Simon was, I was lying face down on my bed with my textbooks piled in front of me, feeling the ache in my wrists as I tried to write in such a compressed position. One of my many vices: laziness. But it seemed that this position worked for me the best to study, or rather I was too lazy to try anything different. I pored over the pages, carefully internalizing the information. After having finished, I repeated the information to myself over and over again, closing my book. Every so often, I would look up in frustration having forgotten what was supposed to come next. Trying to place myself in a state of utter concentration, I grabbed a hair band from off of my nightstand and pulled my hair back. I continued to read and repeat, intermittently releasing my hair from its bun to relieve the tension that was building up at the roots. 

As the time neared closer and closer to midnight, I grew bored of the same stories over an over again, the goblin treaties, the numpty revolutions, so I put my stuff away and went to bed. Or tried to, at least. Simon decided to remain awake for even longer than I, not even doing anything. He was just sitting straight, staring into space, apparently thinking (which was a miracle for him). I was unable to fathom what he was thinking about, it wasn’t as if he had any homework or exams this week.  _ It wasn’t weird that I knew that, I was just observant. _

I turned toward him so I could keep watching him, a look of adorable concentration on his face, his tongue sticking out between his teeth and his brows furrowed. The moonlight that was flooding in the window he insisted on leaving open was illuminating his golden skin lightly dusted in freckles. Luckily, he seemed to be completely unaware of me watching him. I closed my eyes halfway and let my hair fall over my eyes just to be sure. 

“Baz,” he whispered. I did not respond. “Baz,” he said again. When it was clear I wasn’t going to say anything back, he desisted. He clambered off of his bed in a way that was not at all graceful, rather reminiscent of a hippopotamus. Then trying to tiptoe across the room to the door and open a door in a way that wouldn’t wake me, if I were asleep, that is. The door shut with a click behind him and I finally let myself relax against the pillow, releasing the tension I didn’t know I had been holding in my shoulders. 

T he door did not open again in the hour I remained awake after Simon left. I felt the urge to get up and go after him. Much like how Simon spent most of fifth year trying to track me down. I tried to flood my mind with historical facts, trying to release myself from the power Simon held over me. But despite my futile efforts, I fell asleep with glacier blue eyes in the front of my mind.

 

**Simon**

Penelope had been encouraging me for the past year to move on after Agatha had broken up with me. Easy for her to say, having been dating Micah for over five years. It wasn’t as if she had to suddenly find someone new after dating someone for that amount of time. Not just encouraging me to find  _ someone _ , she had someone in mind that she was encouraging me wildly to pursue, her words exactly. The enemy with whom she had been fraternizing for quite some time. Baz Pitch. It was frankly a betrayal on all levels. She used to come into my room to talk to  _ me _ , to study with  _ me. _ Now every time she would sneak in to ask me a question, she would actually talk to Baz. And seemed to have much more success at it than I ever had in my entire life. 

They would joke and tease and smile and make me think, maybe Baz wasn’t so bad. At least his smile wasn’t bad at all. For someone who must have spent his entire life with a surly frown, his smile was absolutely beautiful. His entire face lit up, dark eyes alight with amusement. Once I was actually able to see him laugh in a way that wasn’t completely sarcastic. He even covered his mouth with his hand. I was glad I had the excuse of disruption from my exam studying to explain why I was staring so unabashedly at him. But I really had no logical explanation for why I did so. Which is why after finding myself staring at him once more, (his hair was pulled back in a bun for goodness sakes. My fingers were itching to tuck back the few strands that were hanging before his eyes. Every so often, he would take the hairband out and run his fingers through his hair and I could feel my face turn pinker and pinker each time he did so, and for no good reason either.), I found myself sneaking off to Penny’s room. I was in dire need of one of our therapeutic gossip sessions. 

Making sure he wasn’t awake, I snuck quietly out of the room to find Penny. She was where she usually was at this time of night, tucked near the outside gate of the school, the only place where she could get a decent cellphone signal to call Micah. 

“Pen!” I hissed as quietly as I could, but the harsh whisper pierced through the night. She looked up from her phone. “I need to talk to you,” I said as I moved closer and closer to her. I sat on the ground next to her, pulling my knees up to my chest. She looked at me knowingly.

“Is this about Baz?” she asked me with a grin starting to spread across her face. Wasn’t everything about Baz these days? I simply nodded and let myself fall into the lull of easy conversation with her, trying to let my mind stray from the boy with the dark hair who had fallen asleep several stories above.


End file.
